Page 77 of Perfect Mess

BBBBWWWWWWAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Big, bold, and brassy, the blast of the air horn shattered the morning still. The snakes all jumped. Wild boars fled in terror. Somewhere, an alligator pooped its pants.

The runners surged forward like a horde of Southern Baptists at a Cracker Barrel after Sunday morning church. I tracked Jack weaving through the masses, surging toward the vanguard. I kept pace with him for a good three minutes. Okay, three seconds.

As runners passed me on all sides, I saw Jack pulling away from the masses, joining the fastest runners out in front. Sweat poured down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I couldn’t help but blink, and when I opened my eyes again, Jack was gone. He slipped over the horizon and vanished in a cloud of dust.

It didn’t take long for the breath in my lungs to feel like it was on fire. My heart pounded like a jackhammer. My knees felt like they got hit with a jackhammer and my leg muscles felt like they were disintegrating under my skin. I channeled all my focus on putting one foot in front of the other, the soundtrack ofChariots of Firestill playing in my head.

Kilometer one was anguish.

Kilometer two was agony.

Kilometer three was “what the hell are you doing are you insane?”

Despite the pain, I soldiered on. Determined, I decided my mind would simply overpower my weak, useless body through sheer force of will.

By kilometer four, I had found a rhythm, my body in the zone. The rhythm I had found was Step, oh my God, ouch. Step, oh my God, ouch. Step, oh my God, ouch. The zone was the WTHAYDYGTKUA zone. The ‘what the hell are you doing, you’re going to kill us all zone’. Like that red area on the pressure meter in the main control room of a nuclear power plant, the quivering needle slipping over the line from the orange section to the red, seconds away from apocalyptic Armageddon.

By kilometer five, my heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to dislodge from my chest. Then take off, turn around, and go get some ice cream. My lungs were a puddle of kerosene jelly that had been lit on fire with a blowtorch, then thrown into an erupting volcano.

I made it further than I should have. For someone whose primary sources of exercise were an occasional yoga class, playing pickleball with senior citizens, and a dedicated regimen of fork lifts. Forks laden with ranch drenched fried pickles. Up and down from plate to mouth.

I never saw the gopher tortoise hole. Probably because my eyes were blinded by the sweat and the tears. I didn’t feel it when my ankle rolled. Probably because the bottom half of my body was numbed by pain. What I felt was the ground, rushing up to meet me when I tipped forward and face planted on the trail. Jagged-edge gravel tore into my knees and elbows. A random twig stabbed me in the thigh.

It took everything I had left just to roll over. Staring up into the cloudless sky, I had a moment of clarity. This was my penance. A punishment for my sins. What kind of person covets their best friend’s boyfriend? What kind of person tricks a somewhat clumsy but otherwise innocent man into helping her with her sinister schemes? I deserved the pain and the suffering that had befallen me. For all the evil I had wrought, in thought, word, and deed.

Somehow, I made it to my feet, taking a moment to let the waves of pain subside. Everything hurt. My left knee was bleeding. My elbows were the color of strawberries. I tried to walk, but as soon as I stepped down, my right ankle throbbed. I tried hopping, but only made it two hops before I fell back down on the ground. I considered crawling, but as soon as I put any weight on my hands, the gravel tore into my palms. Unable to walk, alone and defeated, I did the only thing I could do.

I sat in the dirt and cried.

The Universe was right to put me back in my place. There in the dirt. Beaten. Bruised. Bloodied. I had gotten exactly what was coming for me. Justice had been served. I sat there for I don’t know how long. Waiting for the snakes or the boars or the alligators to come along and put me out of my misery.

“Mary?” The voice sounded faint, like it came from a dream. Turning my head, I saw Jack jogging down the trail toward me. “Mary!” He rushed to my side. As soon as he saw my bloodied knees and swollen ankle, he sprang into “doctor mode.” Delicate fingers traced over my injuries. Tender hands attended to my wounds.

I reached out to touch his arm just to make sure he was real. “Jack? What are you doing here?”

“Janet didn’t see you at the finish line, so she asked me to come find you.”

“You ran all the way back to find me?”

“I took a shortcut across the field.” Jack’s eyes got wide as he examined my foot.“Your ankle’s the size of a grapefruit.”More like a small watermelon.

Jack cupped my damaged foot in his hands, fingers gently probing. “We need to get your leg elevated and get you some ice. Here.” Jack guided my body backward, so I was laying down, his hand supporting the back of my sweaty head.

Once I was prone, nimble fingers untied my shoelaces. Strong hands tugged off my shoe. Sliding his hands down my calf, Jack carefully pulled my sock loose and my red throbbing foot burst free. It felt like a root canal with a migraine.

“Yikes,” Jack said, poised over my foot like he was disarming a bomb that was about to go off. “Does this hurt?” Jack prodded the eggplant colored lump that was once my foot.

“I don’t think so.”

“How about this?” Jack gave me another good poking.

“Nope.”

“This?”

He could have smashed my foot with a hammer, and I wouldn’t have noticed. “I can’t feel a thing.”

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